by Jaime Thorne
Jeremy went to speak and introduce us but I cut him off instead, “Honey, why don't you go wait upstairs in the room. I'd like to talk to our guest just the two of us.”
His mouth opened and I looked at him, waiting to hear what he had to say while telling him with my eyes that he should not speak. His mouth closed and he nodded and slipped out of the booth, turning and walking out of the bar without a word.
“Couldn't wait to be alone with me?” B asked me, and when I turned and fixed him with a withering glare his resolve melted slightly and he looked for the moment a little lost, like he'd misread the situation.
Surely he had.
“Let me make one thing clear off the bat,” I told him, “Because frankly, you're too young to probably understand the gravity of what is happening here. I love my husband and he comes first. If this happens then you're a tool to be used and discarded, something that is disposable to me. In the end, you don't matter. Once tonight is done I won't give you a second thought.”
I let those words linger as the waitress came back over to the table too quickly to replenish his drink. She was obviously looking for excuses to be near him, and when she saw me seated there with him her demeanor went from shocked to cold almost instantly.
“Can I get something for you Madam?” she asked me, the choice of title deliberate.
“I'll have the same thing that he's having,” I said, smiling sweetly up at her with a saccharine smile. I credit her professionalism that she didn't press the issue.
“I don't think she likes you,” he said quietly once she was out of earshot.
“I think it's more that she likes you an awful lot,” I told him with a sly smile, sitting back in my seat and letting him take in the picture of me lounging.
“Can't blame her for having good taste,” he said with a grin, “But then her opinions don't really matter at all here, now do they?”
“No, they do not,” I said, agreeing with the obvious and moving to the inevitable question, “So why should I say yes? What do you have to offer me that could make me break my marriage vow?”
He could have given a lot of reasons, at least a half a dozen of them good enough to convince me. Plenty of them were the wrong option, things like telling me how big his cock was or how many women he'd satisfied, but there were plenty more correct ones. He could have told me he was doing this because it was his fetish, that he'd done it before and knew what he was doing. He could have told me that he found me desirable and talked about all of the details of what he wanted to find out about my body. I could think of a thousand ideas and a thousand and one lines that probably would have worked in that situation, but never in a million years could I have guessed at what he did say.
“There is a painting,” he spoke with thoughtfulness, taking his time choosing his words, “Done by a local artist actually but I saw it on display at an exhibit in London. The subject is a woman from the back and she has this long dark hair that is draped over one shoulder, covering it completely, while the other shoulder is bare. She's looking over that bare shoulder at something in the distance and she has this look in her eyes, this look of some sort of deep well of uncertainty.”
I knew the painting he was talking about exactly. I knew the artist by name, but in spite of the fact that I'd seen it originally displayed at the gallery in this town I never really realized that he was from around here.
But I could picture it. Without a single other word, I knew what he was talking about precisely.
“I can see that look in your eyes sometimes,” he said, “You're confident and self-assured and I know that you know that every man in this bar would be lucky to go upstairs with you, would kill to be in my seat.
“But in the moments between the confidence I can see a glimmer of that uncertainty, and that tells me that there is complexity beneath the surface of you. That there is a woman down there beneath the surface that is someone that I should get to know.”
The waitress arrived with my drink and I barely noticed her. I sipped it nervously, waiting until we were alone again to speak.
“It's a single night,” I told him, “And it's just sex. How much can you learn?”
“Sex is the best way to know someone,” he said seriously, “It's when the body lays the soul bare and exposed. Sex is the only way to know someone, the only way to truly understand who they are.”
I thought on what he said, sipping my drink thoughtfully.
“But I'm getting ahead of myself,” he said broadly, “No sense in jumping to the end when the journey is so very interesting. Why don't we start with the first step instead? Why don't we start with your name?”
“Avril,” I said quietly, my voice quivering slightly.
“It's nice to meet you, Avril,” he said with a grin, knowing that I had swallowed his hook, “My name is Bruce.”
CHAPTER SIX
JEREMY
I had been sitting up here for so long that I'd completely lost track of time. Sitting up here waiting for them to finally arrive, wondering whether it would be one or both of them that would walk through that door.
The agreement I had with Avril meant that in the end, the decision was hers. She alone would make the call over whether or not Bruce was the man for the job. Everything had been pre-arranged, including that I met him first and that I left the two of them alone once she was certain that he wasn't going to cross any lines right there in the bar.
But beyond that moment there was no telling where this would go.
Avril wasn't exactly excited about this, I knew that. I had the feeling that in her mind she was still having difficulty seeing this as anything but cheating, and that on some level she was doing this mostly as a favor to me, rather than as something that she truly wanted to do.
And because of that I think on some level I wanted her to say no, or at least I anticipated that she would. That she would find a reason in Bruce that she could point to as a reason not to agree, and frankly given who Bruce was it wouldn't be hard to see why not.
Bruce and Avril couldn't be more different, couldn't have less in common and so, of course, I completely understood why she would deny him. I was so certain of this that it had become a certainty in my mind, so it was no surprise when the door to the room opened up and she walked in alone.
Not to say that I wasn't disappointed, but I did a good job of hiding my disappointment on my face.
“Hi there,” I said quietly, “How was your drink?”
I heard the noise and heard the door get caught before it closed completely, I saw him entering the room behind her and my eyes fell on him as I stared. Bruce stepped in and let the door close behind him, clicking into the door frame with a steady and sure latching.
I was sitting in the back corner of the room and Bruce was by the door. Avril was in the space between us, standing there equidistance from each of us.
It was as if none of us knew what to say, as if none of us knew where to go from here.
I suppose that was true.
The conditions that I'd set out with Avril were numerous and made a lot of sense in a lot of ways. Bruce was just as unfamiliar with this as we were. We were all going to learn right alongside each other.
“I guess it went well,” I said eventually, “The drink that is.”
“I think so,” Bruce spoke up from the door, taking a step forward into the room and then stopping himself up short. He looked from Avril to me and back to Avril again, trying to suss out what should happen.
In the end, it was Avril who took control, her voice steady with only the slightest quiver of nerves beneath it.
“Not to be blunt but I think we should just do this,” she said, “Get to it now before any of us have any second thoughts.”
I think I knew who she was talking about.
I wouldn't be having any second thoughts. This was my fantasy, after all, my desires leading us into this situation. It had been built up for so long that I was certain of my place in all of this, in what I wanted
to witness before my eyes.
And Bruce wasn't about to say no. I could see the hunger in his eyes each time he looked at my wife, the way his body responded to her. She was gorgeous and sexy, no red-blooded man in his right mind would turn down the opportunity to be with her.
So as far as regret or changing their mind or having second thoughts was concerned it could only be Avril in that place. It could only be her that would decide against this if enough time was allowed to take elapse.
But I wasn't going to say that. I wasn't going to say anything that could chance a problem. I just nodded and let them press forward. I let Avril turn to Bruce and let him step forward into the room and into her while I sat in the corner watching with rapt anticipation.
My heart was pounding, but if anyone could give me a run for my money on heart rate it was probably Avril. I could tell she was nervous, and I could almost read a bit of excitement bubbling beneath the surface there as well. She was turned to the side as he came in close to her, and I could see both of them as they stared at each other.
He had hunger and an edge of hardness in his vision, but she was nearly breathless with nerves. Her lips were slightly parted, her eyes big and wide and open. Her head was ducked back a bit and her fingers nervously played with the material of her dress as he stepped up to her and reached out for her for the first time.
Bruce pulled her in, pulled her close so that her body was pressed against his, so that his strong arms were holding her tight in his grip. They never broke eye contact during this time, and I think all of us held our breath as he drew closer and closer to her, as his lips parted slightly and his eyes began to close.
I watched, unable to tear my vision away from it as his lips brushed lightly against hers before she turned away. It was a whisper of a touch, and when he pressed on he wound up kissing her cheek while she was turned to face me.
Avril locked eyes with me, watching me as I watched them. He kissed her cheek and then down to her jaw, down to her neck as his hands slipped around from her waist to the small of her back and it happened.
The tiniest of the most imperceptible of changes, a slight shift in the way she held herself. A relaxation of her body as she melted into his arms and his intention.
She let Bruce take control and he did, sliding his hands up her back to her shoulder blades and beyond. Letting him slip the straps of her dress over her shoulders and letting him tug down.
It was a loose fitting dress, a nearly sheer material that hugged her body and showed it off when she walked but loose enough that with the slightest touch it would slide off of her and puddle to the ground around her feet with graceful ease.
She seemed nervous, seemed uncertain. She was quivering a bit as he stepped away from her and took in the sight of her.
She looked amazing, clad in a lacy red pair of panties and bra. She may have been wearing something, but all of her was on full display.
He could see her just as well as I could, could see the lines of toned muscle in her body and the soft swell of her curves. He could see the tan and smooth skin, her flawless body laid out in plain view for him as he moved her with steady and in control hands over to and then down on the bed.
It was clear that she was nervous, that she was uncertain. It was clear that he had every intention of showing her the truth of what he could offer. That Bruce was taking control to make sure that she wouldn't have a moment's regret.
He lay her on the bed and her hands moved up to cover her face. I could see a flush in her cheeks as she pressed her palms into her eyes, and my heart reached out for her but I knew that I couldn't stop anything. I was too invested in this moment to stop it, and I had a feeling that she was in the exact same place as I was.
Bruce moved down beneath her feet as she pulled her legs up towards her body. He caught them, gently but firmly guiding them apart as his head ducked between them.
And he kissed her, a gentle and teasing kiss on the inside of her thigh that made her hiss with delight and surprise. He pressed on before she had even a moment to register with it, moving in and down and over to the other side.
His kisses moved steadily but slowly down between her legs. Light at first but building in force and deliberate intention. He pressed on as her body responded to that, her chest rising and falling as she struggled to contain her breath.
I watched her hands move from her eyes, her eyes that stayed firmly shut, to clench and grab the sheets between her fingers. I watched as she trembled and then drew still, quieter and quieter the closer he got to his final destination.
And then he found it, dipping down between her and kissing her deeply through her panties.
From my seat in the corner, I couldn't see everything, her leg and his head was in the way, but I could see her responding to him. I could see her body rising up to meet him, warming to him as the blush in her cheeks found a home on her breasts and she started to move out of her own control.
I watched her back arch, her grip on the sheets tighten. I watched her hips move to buck against his face as his fingers dipped between her thighs right alongside his lips and tongue and when she moaned I knew that he was tasting her.
Another man was eating out my wife.
My cock throbbed, almost to the point of aching. It was hard and firm in my pants, begging for a release that I didn't have the confidence to be able to see through. I wanted more than anything to... well I don't know precisely what I wanted besides continuing to watch this happen right here in front of me.
I did, staring at them as she trembled and moaned and her eyes flew open. Her head fell to the side as her mouth fell open and the words came from her lips without conscious thought.
“Oh god yes.”
Then her eyes fell on me and I realized that it was all registering with her, that she was understanding fully what was happening as she locked eyes with me and knew with certainty that it wasn't me between her thighs.
Not her husband but a stranger. Giving her this pleasure. Making her moan and squirm.
It was him helping her, him making her feel this way. His responsibility while I was a passive observer.
And that left a choice with her, a choice of what to do next.
This was it, the turning point in all of this. She had a decision to make, had to decide between doing what she needed and wanted and what she felt was right. She had to choose but the decision was inevitable all the same.
“Don't stop,” she told the man between her legs, “Please don't fucking stop I'm close.”
Her hands released the sheets and found his head, tangling in his hair and pulling him into her as he grunted. She moaned and moved her hips, dragging and grinding them up and down his face as his hand pistoned his fingers in and out of her tightness.
“Oh god,” she moaned, “So fucking good. So fucking good. So fucking good.”
The words came out through clenched teeth, a confession she didn't want to make but one that she couldn't help but utter. There were no surprises here, nothing that was anything short of a necessity. Nothing that was anything but exactly what I desired.
Until she did surprise me, by pushing him away.
“Stop,” she said with intense firmness, “Just fuck me. I need cock.”
There was a fire in her eyes but that fire was for him. That fire watched her handsome stranger pull back and stand at the edge of the bed, watched him undress.
He took his time, working deliberately. He took his time peeling the clothing off of his body and revealing the hard firmness of it to her eyes.
And she watched the whole time, drinking in the sight of his thickly corded arms, his firm and wide shoulders, his hard and toned core. She took in the sight of his muscular hairiness, his potent masculinity as she dipped her fingers between her thighs and played with herself.
And when he tugged his pants down both her and I saw another truth, the truth that he was immense in every single way. Bruce was my better in every single physical aspect.
Unde
r ordinary circumstances, I would have been jealous. To be a man that was both handsome and muscular and shockingly well endowed would have been unfair.
Except I was going to benefit from his generous member just as much as she was. I was just as lucky as my wife.
Well maybe almost as lucky.
Avril swallowed hard and I swear she almost licked her lips as she reached over to her panties and tugged them off. She flipped over so she was on hands and knees, throwing a look over her shoulder and speaking to him.
“Don't hold back,” she told him, “I want all of it.”
She turned to look away from him, and as she did her eyes locked with mine with a look in them that almost dared me to ask for more. She had to know I couldn't, had to know that this was plenty enough and more than enough for me.
Bruce didn't hold back when he fucked her. He pressed forward into her with a long slow stroke, filling her completely with a single fuck forward. She must have been so wet, so fucking ready to take him. To take every last throbbing inch of him and feel it fill her up.
That look of defiant anger in her eyes burned away and she shuddered and melted around him. She moaned as his hands grasped her waist and pulled her into him, and moaned as she realized that he had bottomed out in her.
“Fuck me,” she begged him, her voice a palpable ramble, “Fuck me fuck me fuck me.”
Bruce gave her that, pulling back and pounding into her. He fucked her with a force and a fury, slipping inside of her and filling her with each powerful stroke forward.
I watched, seeing their two beautiful bodies coming together and seeing how with each stroke of him inside of her he melted away a bit more of her reserve. I watched and understood that each stroke of him was a covenant between the two of them, a bond of sexual contact that I existed separate from.
Another man was fucking my wife, and I couldn't look away.
It was almost everything that I wanted, almost perfect. It was almost enough to satisfy me.
Don't get me wrong, watching her there with him was amazing. Amazing enough that I could feel that same pounding satisfaction that she was clearly feeling in my own body. I could feel it resounding and building in mine.